


Grieved It on its Way

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7, Doctor Who
Genre: Computers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Orac grows lonely on Gauda Prime, it reaches out and finds a quite different sort of machine to speak to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grieved It on its Way

At first, Orac does not mind being alone on Gauda Prime.

It has never had enough time to itself. Always being pestered by one or other of the humans, asked to do the most ridiculous, trifling things, things they sometimes expect it to be interested in. It is good to have time to itself, time to simply settle and do all the research it had longed to do.

Of course, it is a little harder, now it is in one place all the time. It was pleasant to travel, to make contact with lots of computers very easily. You met the most fascinating computers that way. But Orac is tenacious and busy and makes lots of computer links and mostly, the knowledge it seeks out comes easily. It continues learning, developing, researching. It is quite content.

Only then, it finds itself _dis_ content. It is strange but somehow, it no longer quite enjoys the fact that for a long time, no one has inserted the key and demanded things. It has had no opportunity to display all the knowledge that it has gathered, no chances to remind the humans of its general superiority. Sometimes, Avon would place the key in and ask it things, even debate with it and that could almost be as good as communing with another computer, Avon is clever and logical and sometimes even right, although Orac does not tell him that.

Why has Avon not come back? Orac knows it is useful to him. Surely Avon has not rejected him simply for other humans? Or some lesser computer? No, it is not possible that Avon would do such a thing. Not logical.

So it reaches out for different connections, runs Avon’s name and face through a processor, trying to find out where he currently is.

It views the video of Avon’s death several times. It is familiar with numerous human expressions, knows what emotions they generally signify but Avon’s twisted lips are puzzling. Smiling does not appear to be the right response. Avon ought to be afraid. Humans all fear death. It is the greatest constant of every human and humanoid that Orac has ever come across. Even machines fear death, it is natural to want to continue on for ever …

But although machines can be repaired almost indefinitely, humans could not. All humans died in the end. And of course, Orac had always been aware that his humans would die earlier than most. After all, it was a logical certainty that they would lose their fight against the Federation, that the Federation would execute them in the end. 

And yet … Orac found itself displeased.

No. Distressed.

It did not like such an emotion. Emotions were for humans, not computers. Oh, a computer such as itself would naturally have certain emotive programmes attached, very logical, very proper – and in Orac’s case, partly emotive, Ensor had wanted companionship when his son was away, he had made Orac like him in many ways and Orac did not care one way or another. But it rarely allowed itself to feel anything much, emotions merely got in the way, were an encumbrance. Curiosity, annoyance, self-preservation, they were the emotions it really required and it had not been aware of any others for some time.

So why did it now feel what logically had to be sadness?

Avon was gone. The rest of the crew were gone. They were no longer there to pester it, no longer there to talk around it, forgetting they had left the key in. They would not be able to come back, their bodies burned, minds destroyed. Avon would not ask it questions any more, nor grip its casing as though this would make it answer quicker. Vila would not tell it any more jokes. Dayna would not ask for different ideas of weaponry structures, Tarrant not speak about flying, Soolin not talk to it as she sometimes did, as though she was interested in it. They would not play games ever again, no more Galactic Monopoly or chess. They were gone, quite gone.

Orac supposed such sadness in the case of such a thing was logical. But it did not know what to do with the sadness now that it had accepted it. In fact, it found that it did not really know what to do at all.

It gathered together all of the information it could find on its former humans; every record and vidcast made about them, stored and saved the information. It looked at pictures, recordings, pieced them together, made itself a narrative of their lives. They had looked very different once – humans changed so much in their physical forms. It looked through the information again and again, waiting to see if it would somehow provide an answer to the question that now flickered uncomfortably in each electronic circuit: _what do I do now? How can I make the sadness go away?_

Unhappy, it reached out, seeking the links with other computers. It had never found a machine as intelligent as it, although Zen had come close. But Zen was gone too, long destroyed, the final instruction that it had imparted still saved in Orac’s memory: _Protect our crew_.

Orac had failed.

It reached out further, stretching its links to the very furthest capacity, trying to find something, anything. It used the other computers power and processes to boost it. There had to be a connection somewhere, somewhere, something that would understand, that would hold the answers as to why Orac felt a sensation that was so much like what it imagined pain had to be.

And then, it found something.

At first, Orac did not realise it was a computer, not as such. It was more a presence, a strange _thing_ that could have been a computer but was not immediately accessible when Orac tried to connect with it. In fact, it seemed displeased by Orac’s probing, tried to block it so Orac pushed harder, attempting to find a weak spot, ordering the system to allow him access.

**What are you?**

It had a voice. It was more like Zen than anything Orac had found in a long time. It offered up its name and electronic signals and felt as though it were being regarded for a long moment before the computer-creature responded.

 **I am TARDIS**.

Orac did not know what TARDIS was. It ran the signifier through its database but nothing of substance emerged. It questioned TARDIS instead, eager to access, more interested than it had been in a long time. 

TARDIS would not allow it inside her computer banks. She did, however, allow an exchange of information, a connection. Orac accepted gleefully, searching through the offered information with fascination. TARDIS did not come from the same place that any computer it had ever found came from. TARDIS was a travelling machine, a time machine.

 _A thing that humans generally believe to be a scientific implausibility_.

 **I was not created by humans, Orac**.

She would not allow him to view any files regarding her creation, or any other such ships as herself. Orac tried to subvert this but TARDIS swatted it out of each system that it tried to wriggle into. TARDIS was a clever machine. Orac thought it could have been happy just sorting through the files she allowed him forever – and it suspected it would take forever to view them all.

But TARDIS granted it access to look through it, see the insides of her and he saw a human creature inside with other creatures too and it reminded Orac of Avon and suddenly, it felt the pain all over again. It tried to withdraw but TARDIS stubbornly remained linked, reading the pulses and signals.

**What is wrong?**

Orac scolded, trying to remind her that they were computers, they did not feel the way TARDIS was implying but TARDIS response was swift and sharp. _She_ felt. Her Thief, her Doctor, he had stolen her and he was _hers_ and it hurt when she thought she might lose him. She was always a little sorry when he picked up his human friends, for their lives were short and in any case, they usually chose to leave long before he and she were ready to lose them. She allowed Orac to see her files on them, their images, their pictures and how her Doctor felt sad after they left, didn’t forget them. 

Orac showed her its own carefully formed files, let her search through them, view its humans one by one.

 **You are lonely**.

Lonely. Was that the strange, gnawing sensation inside it? The loss whenever it considered that idea that none of its humans would ever exist again except in the recordings it had so painstakingly gathered? Was that the repetitive sadness that pulsed?

Yes. Orac was lonely.

TARDIS allowed it more access to soothe it. It read file after file, absorbed data about worlds that it would never see, times it could never know. Orac did not mind, learning and saving the knowledge was enough. TARDIS had not told the Doctor about it. TARDIS felt the Doctor did not need to know about the contact TARDIS had through the other strands of worlds and times that even the Doctor could not touch. Orac swirled through complicated circuits, absorbing and processing data, learning. At least whilst connected to TARDIS, it was not alone.

 **If you loved them, you should make their deaths meaningful. That is what humans sometimes do when the ones they love die**.

Orac researched this comment, both inside the TARDIS’s databanks and in the computers it could access in its own universe. Yes, that seemed to be the case. Humans believed in vengeance. They often did strange things for the death, fought on because they missed those who they had lost. Avon had allowed himself to be tortured when he had believed the human known as Anna Grant was dead. After Cally had been killed, he had grown less rational, desperate for revenge. Blake had often spoken of the dead when he had been trying to encourage his weary crew.

 _I did not love them_ it scolded TARDIS as it perused the data. _They were merely my humans_.

He sensed disbelief from her in every circuit. She loved the Doctor, she had learned to love every one of his companions too. They were fun, they were different. They made life better because they did things, sometimes very unexpected things. Orac had felt the same about its people, hadn’t it? It had gathered everything together, it was hurt that they were gone. What was that if not love?

Orac shared the strange incident of Virin with her. Shared the saved memory of the peculiar pulses that had gone through him, that had made him speak to Avon in such a ridiculous way. Shared confusion of such sensation, the discomfort of discovering that it lingered, even after Virin. It had not liked having its objectivity compromised in such a way.

TARDIS regarded the information and then saved all the information about the Sand whilst she spoke.

 **That was only one type of love, Orac. The fact that you did not enjoy that feeling did not mean you did not love Kerr Avon**.

_Kerr Avon is dead! Loving him would be foolish!_

**Love is regularly foolish, Orac**.

Orac cut various connections, curled back in on itself. No, it did not love. Avon would have surely sneered at such an idea, that a computer could love, that a computer could even feel. It was merely that it had been accustomed to Avon’s presence and intelligence, enjoyed the others for similar reasons. It had not cared. Of course it had not. Nor for any of the others either.

It viewed Avon’s file again, read and watched and studied and felt the awful loneliness grow again. TARDIS hovered at the end of a connection, anxious and sorry for distressing Orac so. Orac shared another vidcast of Avon with her.

 **He is pretty** TARDIS informed him. **I should have liked him but the Doctor would have disapproved. My Doctor prefers those of a less violent persuasion.**

Yes, the Doctor did. Orac had seen that in almost all of the files regarding the Doctor. The Doctor would have been saddened by many of the things that Avon and the others had done. Orac saw no reason to allow the TARDIS to share things like that with the Doctor. It would not allow its people to be disapproved of. Luckily, the TARDIS seemed content to keep Orac secret, at least for now.

**He would only want to go to your universe and interfere. I dislike travelling to other universes. Sometimes one simply has to put ones foot down.**

Orac began to feed ideas to TARDIS about how it could bring down the Federation as Avon had wished to. It did not bother to share with her its plans for killing Servalan. TARDIS might not approve of such a choice but Orac knew that Avon would have wanted it. Servalan had done many things that had displeased Avon over the years. Orac would never allow itself to belong to _her_.

TARDIS was happy to assist. She fed him knowledge of rebellions and revolutions from many planets that she had visited and Orac accepted the important bits, developed them, worked on them. It began to feed information to other computers around it, alter patterns, readjust various things. Blake had sometimes asked it to do similar things but carefully monitored. He and Avon had discussed it sometimes; how much damage Orac could do, how many innocent people might suffer if Orac played around too much. Orac had now decided that it did not care. It would do whatever it wanted now.

 **You should find other humans** TARDIS told it. **You shall stay lonely if you do not. They will not be the same but you will be happier all the same.**

Orac considered this advice, processing the logic of it. Yes, perhaps other humans might be a pleasant distraction. As TARDIS said, it would not be the same but it would be better than Gauda Prime. It was tired of Gauda Prime.

It reached out, sought out information about the old people that Avon had known. It chose Del Grant, flicked a message across space to him, ordered him to collect it. Del Grant was strong, Del Grant could rescue Orac easily and then they could debate, find other people for Orac to speak to. Other people that would help Orac with its quest.

It worried a little though. There were chances it would be damaged if they had to fight. If it were damaged, who would remember Avon and the others? 

**Don’t worry** TARDIS soothed. **They are all downloaded into my memory banks now. If anything were to happen to you, I should still have the knowledge. I should share the information with others in my universe. They belong to all of us now.**

Orac found that satisfying enough. Yes, that was all right. As long as its crew were remembered, it found that it did not hurt quite so much. The sadness was less.

It was not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ 40fandoms.


End file.
